


An Asgardian Birthday Night

by locusinbloom (Fractual_Visions)



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Abduction, Anal, Blindfolds, Bondage, Consensual Kink, F/M, Leashes, Master/Pet, Spanking, community: naughtylokiconfessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 22:20:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1581518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fractual_Visions/pseuds/locusinbloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For her birthday, Loki takes her to Asgard and makes her into his pet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Asgardian Birthday Night

**Author's Note:**

> Done for the [Naughty Loki Confessions](http://naughtylokiconfessions.tumblr.com) blog of which I am a devoted follower.

It was late—just past midnight—but she was still awake. Awake and humming. Birthdays were cool. If only Tom Hiddleston were able to celebrate it with her… or Loki… she flung her arms out on the sheets and sighed.

"Loki, my birthday is March 1st. You know, there’s an Internet meme that says I’m your sex slave. It’s because people born on the first of a month are sex slaves and March is your month. I wish you would come and make me serve you for real.”

To begin with, she didn’t even notice the feathering sensations on her arms, they were so light. When it registered a few minutes later, she thought: spiders! And tried to brush them off. They simply grew firmer, the unmistakable pressure of invisible hands stroking her. She leaped out of bed, horrified.

For a second, the feeling disappeared. She stood in the middle of the room, panting. Thank God that was gone, whatever that had been.

When the hands returned, accompanied by a hot breath on her neck, she literally shrieked and ran for the door. It was locked. She raised her hands to pound on it and her wrists were caught in fingers like manacles.

"Caitlin."

That voice, she knew it instantly! Her whole body froze in disbelief.

"Loki?"

"Happy birthday, Caitlin. My slave."

She was overwhelmed, frightened and excited.

"I’ve got a birthday treat for you. A few hours in Asgard to serve me for real?"

"Yes! That’s amazing, please, I’d love to!" She was so frightened that her knees were shaking, but there was no way in hell she was going to pass up an opportunity to visit Asgard with Loki. Loki!

"I must caution you." He sounded quite serious. "This is your last chance to say no. Come with me and you will be my slave, not for sport, but"—he smirked—"for real. Nothing unpleasant, I promise you, but you will not refuse me. I will not allow it.”

"Okay." She absolutely did not give herself time to think about it, in case she talked herself out of this. "I agree."

Her clothes slithered to the floor, a sensation a bit like a bucket of warm water pouring over her. She blushed, her nipples instantly hard, and her hands fluttered to cover herself. Loki produced a collar and leash.

"I brought these just for you, Caitlin."

The collar snapped around her neck and locked with an alien padlock. It was heavy, thick, stiff leather. She moaned, feeling completely subjugated. The leash was a length of chain, as for a dog, only thicker. Loki allowed it to dangle against her bare flesh for a moment, before yanking her forward. A faint shimmer began to surround them.

"Wait!"

Loki raised an eyebrow.

"Are we going somewhere private?"

"Slaves do not ask questions." Loki turned away coldly and her bedroom disappeared from around them.

The room they materialized into was a private (and empty) bed chamber. She sighed in relief.

Her eyes were so busy taking in the enormous bed, draped in huge curtains and raised on a golden dais, that she nearly tripped when Loki pulled the leash in the opposite direction. He seated himself in an ornate chair before a large table strewn with papers. The loop of the leash went over his non-dominant wrist. He frowned at her.

"It is unbecoming," Loki suggested politely, "for you to stand while I am seated."

There were no chairs within reach of her leash. To be entirely honest, she would have been disappointed if there were. The stone was warm beneath her, perhaps owing to the large fire which blazed in a pit in the center of the room. It looked very real but produced no smoke and she wondered if it were a fancy magic fire, a kind of alien electric fireplace.

Wordlessly, Loki took up a pen and began writing, sparing her no further attention. She didn’t care and gazed up at him hungrily, taking in every detail. The candles on the table brought out tiny blue highlights in his dark hair. Somehow, she had expected Asgardian casual wear to be more… medieval? Victorian? Silks. Velvet, maybe. Loki wore a coarse woolen tunic of forest green down to his knees, braided with silver thread at the hems. His pants were baggy, undyed linen. Simple leather shoes, fastened by buckles, adorned his feet. His cape, draped over the rear of the chair, seemed to be nothing more than a blanket-sized piece of leather with the fur still attached. She surreptitiously buried her hands in it. There was a touch of princely detail in the ornate pouch which hung around his neck by silver chain. Also, in his thin leather belt, studded with emeralds and intricately carved with animal motifs.

In Loki’s aspect was something ancient and timeless. He was so young, so innocent, so hurt. It had been easy, in fantasy, to forget that he was a being older than nations and powerful with incomprehensible magics. She shivered. The word ‘slave’, on Earth—Miðgard—seeming so sexy and exciting, here seemed like the natural and inevitable order of the cosmos.

Every so often, he scratched the tip of his nose with the pen.

This must be a dream, she thought to herself. Look at where she was. Naked, collared, and chained, sitting at the feet of the most beautiful person in the universe. At one point, he paused writing, looked down at her, and smiled. It was a genuine smile, warm and happy, as though taking simple pleasure in seeing her.

She passed into a trace, almost hypnotized by the scratch of his pen and the flickering candlelight. She could not have said how long she sat there, whether a few minutes or more than an hour. The pen dropped with a light thud.

"Well, Caitlin," he purred. "Shall I take you to bed now?"

"Yes, please. Sir? Master?" She winced. "Sorry. I have no idea what to call you."

"What are titles to a god?" He shrugged. "My name is Loki."

Without preamble, he stood up and began walking. The leash pulled tight before she had time to stand up, leaving her scrambling after Loki on her hands and knees. At the bed, he pulled her to her feet. With her encased in his arms, he spent long moments licking and kissing her left ear, then began to whisper into it.

"I am going to bind you to my bed. I will mark you with my hands, until your skin glows red, perhaps purple even, if you can stand the pain. I will ply you with toys and with oil, until you are frantic and begging for my touch." Her breath deepened; her body flushed with warmth. "I will use you in all of your holes, until I am entirely satiated, and only then may you sleep, at my feet and in bonds like a proper animal. Any objections?"

"No, Loki." She was surprised by her own voice, did not know it was capable of that submissive tone.

"That is very fortunate. Since I intend to do these things whether you object or not."

Loki swiftly threw open a chest near his bed and withdrew a number of items. Before she could catalog them all, he pulled a hood over her head. It left her mouth and nose free, but entirely covered her eyes and ears. The word went dark and noise became dim.

A sturdy, slender belt closed around her waist, his fingers pausing a moment to tickle her ribs. Cuffs of leather like that of her collar encircled her wrists and ankles. He attached her wrists to the belt. She could no longer reach her face. Nor, had she wanted to, could she shield her quim. She tested the cuffs, pulling hard. They did not yield. She thought very briefly of her own bedroom and how very far away it seemed.

Her legs were unceremoniously kicked apart. Loki’s hands were around each ankle for a moment and then he stood up. She tried to close her legs and found that she could not. A bar of two or three feet held them open.

Loki pushed her onto the bed. The linen was as rough as his clothing, but the fur beneath it was deliciously soft. She felt the leash pull up sharply, then slacken, but when she tried to slide backward she found only an arm’s length of give. As she was to see later, he had slipped the loop over a tall post mounted at the head. With her hands and eyes free, she could have escaped it in a minute. As it stood—knelt?—, she could not have left his bed if her life depended on it.

Cool, firm hands, now as invisible to her as when the night began, guided her onto her stomach and urged her knees up under her. Without her arms to balance, she was clumsy and helpless.

Her breath huffed cool on her shoulder, her wrists hung limp from the cuffs, and that was all she felt. She strained to hear Loki, but her ears caught nothing. She was alone in the dark, a comfortable sort of loneliness, anticipation of good things to come. A spot on her leg started to itch and she squirmed to relieve it.

Loki slapped her ass, hard. She yelped, taken by surprise. A few seconds pause disorientated her and she sucked in a huge gulp of air. His next blow caught her mid inhale and she choked on her own breath. There was no further respite, the blows landing hard and fast, criss-crossing every fleshy surface of her body. Her ass tingled all over. Her thighs and calves were burning. His hand snaked beneath her to land stinging slaps to her belly and the sides of her breasts.

Her whole body felt like she’d just stepped out of a scalding shower. He switched tactic, landing blow after blow to one tiny patch of skin on her right cheek, an inch above the place it met her thigh. Her moans rose into squeals and, from there, into screams. She scrambled up the bed to escape. Loki did nothing to prevent her retreat, simply followed her relentlessly up.

The pain was unbelievable. Someone holding an heated curling iron to her ass might have felt better.

"Please, stop!"

Loki stopped.

She sighed in relief and… disappointment? Yep, that’s what that feeling was, she mused ruefully. She had wanted the pain to stop—definitely!—but he shouldn’t have stopped just because she asked. She was the slave here, damnit!

"Oh, Caitlin." Loki sighed. She could hear the amusement. "You think I ceased for your begging. You are so wrong. Your mewling turns me the fuck on. Why would I heed your pleas and thus hear fewer of them?"

"Then why—"

"And it is not the place of slaves," he yelled—what hit her ass to punctuate his anger was not his hand, "to ask questions!"

The paddle, for that is what it was, fell over and over and over. Oh, stars and heavens above! This was a level of agony she had never known existed. She could not draw enough air to scream and settled for a continuous low howling sob.

After a while, it didn’t hurt at all. She was floating, suspended in water, and each crack of the wood on her flesh was a comforting burst of warmth. There was a bit of thread tickling up her nose and she started shuffling her head to push it away.

Loki tossed the paddle aside; she heard it, but with no relief, just detached curiosity.

"Close your eyes," he warned.

The hood was pulled off. Hands urged her down to lie flat. Oil was poured into the hollow of her back and gentle hands massaged it onto her ass, then down her legs. One at a time, fingers running in smooth, light circles. It was charming pain, delightful and sweet.

More oil was poured and long, slick fingertips wandered between her legs. Instinctively she tried to evade them, to discover that her ankles were still barred. Closing her thighs was impossible. Two fingers plunged inside her cunt and his thumb began circling her nether entrance. When he withdrew, something—a wooden dildo, her mind helpfully supplied—replaced his fingers and pressed deep inside.

"Keep this in you," he ordered.

How, she wanted to ask, but she had learned that lesson. By twisting one hand entirely behind her back, she managed to get just enough slack in the other to wrap her fingertips around the edge of the dildo. Loki petted her hot ass.

"Caitlin?"

"Yes, Loki?"

"Fuck yourself for me."

Thrilled and humiliated, she started leveraging it in and out, using her hips as much as her trapped hand.

Loki climbed out of bed and began with his clothing. She wanted to cry, because she had dreamed of this so long. Being in Loki’s bed. Watching him strip naked. His pale skin so close that she could see the shadow cast by his abdominal muscles, the sparse dusting of hair on his forearms.

"I thought you could do that by magic." Crap! Had that been a question?

"I could." Loki winked. "Want to see?"

Her eyes lit up with eagerness. “Yes, please.”

Loki dropped his tunic and spread his arms. Very slowly, the fabric of his undershirt, his trousers, his shoes became translucent. It cut itself into dozens of ribbons which twisted into smoke and blew to Loki’s chair. There it fell into an untidy heap of normal clothing.

"Amazing," she breathed.

"Hardly so amazing as my rosy bottomed wench working her puss on my toy. Are you yet enjoying its girth or shall I replace it with another shaft?"

In careful movements, Loki knelt down between her legs, drawing her up so that her thighs would rest outside of his. He slipped his feet under the bar and rested it over his calves. In the end result, she found her feet in the air, her hands remaining secured to the belt, her weight resting solely on her chest and her parted knees. As soon as Loki drew out the toy and replaced it with his own cock, she saw the sense of the position.

Her quivering muscles fought the pull of gravity. As gravity had its inexorable way with her, she impaled herself with her own weight. His length was too much for her; she could not comfortably accommodate it all. When the penetration became overly painful, she was forced to struggle upward, to repeat the cycle. Over and over.

Twisting her head as far as it might go, she caught the look on his face. That fucking smile. Loki was so damn pleased with himself. Well, she thought, time to show him that he wasn’t the only clever one. Pressing her breasts into the bed as hard as she could and shifting as much weight forward as possible, she obtained the leverage needed. After that, it was a simple matter to bounce on his cock with all the excitement of a kid trying to make the merry-go-round go faster.

The shocked, aroused widening of his eyes was totally worth it.

"Oh, you…" He grinned. She froze with a happiness that stole her breath away, because being the focus of that mischievous glimmer was like being petted by lightening.

He left her to her amusement and turned his hands to oiling her rear opening. It was terribly intimate. The newly beaten skin was sensitive to the slightest brush of air. She trembled and moaned when his thumb pressed within, followed by a large helping of oil, poured directly into her hole. Then the blunt tip of something large and hard. Another dildo? Whatever, it was too big, pressing too hard. A tendril of panic gripped her; she cried out and tried to pull away.

"Settle yourself," Loki commanded harshly. "If I wished to rip you open for the pleasure of seeing your tears, I would do so. I promised you nothing unpleasant. Was I lying?"

It was a question that was more than a question. She saw immediately that if her response was one of trust, he would keep faith; if she expressed a lack of trust, he could—would—turn violent, rewarding her with whatever she expected of him.

"No, Loki. You did not lie."

"Shush, relax," he urged. "It will not hurt you."

This time, she bore down against the toy, trying to welcome it into her body. It took time, but Loki kept his word and it slid in without pain. She realized that it was not a dildo or plug. It was a rounded wooden egg on a supple knotted rope. A little further on the rope was another, which slipped in easily after the first. They adjusted themselves to her interior better than a dildo could have. She squeezed her ass muscles to enjoy the lovely full sensation.

"Another?"

"I don’t know."

"I think you can. Ah, yes, just so, you take it so beautifully. My good girl."

Loki’s breath was steady. Were it not for the twitching of his dick within her, she would not have guessed that he was turned on by watching her being filled.

After the third egg was firmly seated, Loki pulled her off his prick. With a bit of maneuvering, he removed himself from between her legs and seated himself at the top of the bed. A casual wave at his erection was her only instruction, but she understood and set to.

His precum was a bit bitter, a bit salty. It mixed with the slimy fish flavor of her own juices. The taste wasn’t exactly thrilling, but the fact of her position made her frantically, desperately aroused. She was chained to his bed and her mouth being used for a washcloth, while the frayed rope end dangled from her stuffed ass and her hands were bound at her waist. She wanted badly to touch her clit. Had she seen herself, she might have been embarrassed, but from her perspective, inside her mind, she felt like a work of art.

Once he was entirely clean—he petted her hair as she licked his balls and she almost purred in pleasure—Loki returned to her bottom, unclipped the bar from her ankles and helped her onto her back. He fitted a purple cushion under her rear and knelt between her thighs.

"I can’t decide. Would I rather come in you or on you?" Loki rubbed his erection with a few lazy strokes.

He reached down and pulled lightly on his balls, gave a huff of breathy satisfaction. That he might pleasure himself had not even occurred to her and she was torn between wanting to watch and wanting his hands on her, right now. The conflict must have shown on her face; he laughed.

"Inside then, I suppose."

He pulled the eggs out, which felt strange and left her weirdly empty. The proceedings were interrupted by a search for the oil vial, then Loki drew the wait out further with a long slow tease. He opened the vial no less than four times to drizzle minuscule streams over his penis (and once over her snatch). Each time was accompanied by languorous stroking, rolling the shaft between his palms or pulling up on the foreskin. She found herself straining against the cuffs, longing to place her hands where his were.

When Loki took her, it was ungentle, a fast hard thrust into her already stretched hole. He didn’t wait, just began thrusting, hard in, slow out, intent on his own pleasure.

His eyes drifted shut, while hers remained open, transfixed by the sight of his jaw and the thin wrinkles between his eyebrows, overtaken by the strange, half-formed thoughts of immense joy. She hoped to become a butterfly, that she could kiss his face with tiny legs, or that they could both turn into water and lie in a puddle together.

He orgasmed with a long, slow exhale and starred down at her with sleepy, hooded eyes.

"Alright. Time for bed." He withdrew and flopped gracelessly beside her.

She blinked, tried to keep the pout hidden. “I haven’t orgasmed.”

He looked at her; his face betrayed nothing. “And I am quite tired. What makes you presume to deserve more of my attention?”

"I don’t know, but…" A thought struck her. "But if it is a gift, I don’t have to deserve it, right? A birthday gift?"

Loki rolled atop her, his whole weight blanketing her, chest to chest, his flaccid penis gently rubbing her labia, his legs on hers. He pressed his open lips to her ear and exhaled wetly against it.

"Come, Caitlin," he pleaded, voice wrecked and desperate, so convincingly sincere.

His fingertips touched her hip and something happened. She knew, in theory, what an orgasm was, she wasn’t stupid. It was the rhythmic occurrence of involuntary muscular contractions in the pelvic region experienced during a period of sexual response. What she did not know, and had not dreamed, was what magic could do with that information. From Loki’s fingers, a feeling like warm water, devoid of wetness, flushed through her pelvis, her abdomen, her thighs. Inside the water, thread-like fissures of blazing heat ignited at random, contracting each muscle they touched on. Within seconds she was soaked with involuntary tears as she screamed—literally screamed—and arched up against Loki’s body, whose weight was solid and muscled and damp with her sweat as he pushed her back down.

He rolled off to give her air. For long moments, she did nothing but lie still and sob.

"Come, a few hours rest." He repositioned her leash and pushed her to the foot of the bed and under the blanket, with very little help from her ragdoll body. When his feet landed on top of her, she curled instinctively around them. He tickled her belly with his toes. "Then perhaps I will have you again before you are returned to your realm."


End file.
